Magic
by Gwen Kahill
Summary: Merlin is mortally wounded in a bandit fight and is quickly fading. Arthur has no idea what to do, but Gaius may have an idea. Merthur as a bromance with hints at a more romantic relationship, Arwen friendship. [IT'S A WORKING TITLE OK]


Carrying Merlin took almost no effort. His body was so delicate and girl-like, in addition to his being on the brink of death. Bony limbs dangled below him, swinging with every step Arthur took.

Merlin gave a soft, shuddering moan, twisting a little in Arthur's arms the way one would toss and turn in the midst of a moderately unpleasant dream.

Brows drawn together, Arthur quickened his pace. A light drizzle began to mist down through the leafy cover of the trees, as the dawn erupted upon them with a pale golden ray of sun and a sky the colour of pink linen.

"Keep holding on, Merlin, we're almost there," Arthur huffed, breaking into a jog. He could see the horses up ahead now, tethered to a tree trunk.

Merlin's head lolled against the crook of his elbow.

Arthur shook him gently but urgently. "Merlin? Merlin, you've get to stay awake so you don't fall off your horse." _And so you don't die_, he added silently. Gingerly placing Merlin in his saddle, he leaned him against the horse's damp mane and then closed his fingers around the reins for him. "Come on. I'm getting you back to Gaius. Stay awake!"

Merlin's fluttering eyelids were barely open, but he managed, between rasping, wheezing breaths, to take control of the horse and follow Arthur home in an awkward half-trot during which the horse kept on veering to the left.

Although it took much longer than usual to make their way back to the castle, Arthur managed it. Without waiting for anyone to secure the horses, he lifted Merlin off of his and made a beeline for Gaius's chambers.

The physician was just sitting up in bed when the door was kicked open. "Wh-Merlin!" He threw back his blanket and hobbled over to Arthur. "What happened?"

"We were hunting, and we were attacked by bandits," Arthur explained as they carried Merlin into his room. "He was hit by an arrow."

They lowered the boy into his bed. Gaius began undressing him.

"Will he be alright?" Arthur stood by the bed, biting at his thumbnail as he watched Gauis bustle about mixing up concoctions and setting an array of medical tools on the bedside table.

"I haven't thoroughly examined the wound; we'll just have to see," replied Gaius grimly.

As the physician laid a length of linen bandaging across the table, Arthur noticed a familiar-looking object, cast haphazardly between a bottle of ink and goblet still half full of water. He picked it up. It was a quill, made with the fluffy white feather of a pheasant. Arthur had given it to Merlin when they'd discovered an abundance of unused quills in the desk of a vacated room during one of their misadventures. He hadn't thought much of it at the time, but now, running his fingers over the soft feather, tears prickled at his eyes and threatened to spill over. Although it looked as if it had only been used a few times, Merlin clearly treasured the quill, as he had set it right next to a flower Guinevere had given him a year ago on his birthday, which was now dry and brown, and a silver coin from his mother which he had brought with him to Camelot.

Hastily putting the quill down and turning away, Arthur looked to Gaius. "How is he?"

Gaius was in the middle of extracting a bit of arrowhead lodged in a groaning Merlin's wound. "Give me a few minutes, and I'll be able to tell you."

The few minutes inched by very sluggishly. By the time Gaius had applied all his pastes and ointments and wrapped Merlin's stomach up with bandages, the poor boy had fallen unconscious from exhaustion and pain.

"Well?" asked Arthur tersely. He hadn't budged from his position by Merlin's bed save for the two times he'd started pacing and stopped after three steps.

Gaius looked up at Arthur, expression solemn. "He's very ill. Not only has the arrow penetrated very deep, he's also lost a lot of blood and is beginning to show signs of a fever. It's a good thing that arrow missed his stomach, even if it's just narrowly."

Arthur pushed his sweaty fringe off his forehead with a hand. "What does that mean? Is he going to die?"

Gazing back down at Merlin's fragile form, Gaius suddenly looked very old, and very sad, as if something of the professional physician had fallen away from him. "I'm afraid it's only a matter of time."


End file.
